Prequel: Don't Abuse Me
by Neon Blur
Summary: What happens before the beginning of my other story. Basically, when Joan and Cherie meet and form The Runaways.
1. Joan and Cherie

Joan walked slowly toward the club, the same place she hung out almost every Friday night. As she got closer, she recognized a few people milling around and she smiled at them, waving slightly. It was kind of cold on this particular night, and she popped the collar on her black leather jacket, her shoulders arched. She walked towards the door and saw there was a line-up. She liked when it was busy. There were so many strange and interesting people at this club in particular – it wasn't like all the other places in town. Fist of all it was an Under 21 club, so she felt like she belonged there. Sure, she couldn't buy a drink in there, but there was plenty of other ways around that little stipulation. The bouncer tapped her on the shoulder and she peered up at him, smiling.

"Heya, Joan!" he boomed. "Alright?"

Joan nodded. "Hey, yeah. How's it goin?"

The bouncer smiled and moved aside, letting her in.

She walked in, peering around from underneath her shaggy hair. She saw a few familiar faces and said hello. As she walked through people waved at her and she meekly waved back, realizing that she had become somewhat of a famous face around here by now. She laughed to herself, feeling lightheaded and fuzzy from the pot she'd smoked earlier. As she walked through the place looking for her friends, she spotted two girls who were dressed unlike anyone else she'd seen before. Sure, everyone here dressed kind of out there, but there was something about these two, one more than the other, that was striking. Joan walked by them, checking them out as she did so. She noticed how alike they were and thought they must be twins. She glanced over at her shoulder slightly as she passed them and they both watched her as she walked. She turned her head and smiled to herself, disappearing into the crowd.

"Oh my god, Marie! Do you know who that was?" Cherie squealed excitedly.

Marie shrugged. "No. Who?"

Cherie looked out towards the girl who had just walked by them. "I think that was Joan Jett!"

"Who?" Marie asked.

Cherie rolled her eyes at her sister. "She's, like, always here. And she plays electric guitar! I heard that she is starting an all girl rock and roll band!"

Marie looked over her shoulder, trying to catch another look at Joan, but she had already disappeared.

"Cool," Marie said nonchalantly.

Cherie grinned, taking a sip of her soda. She was buzzing tonight. She and Marie and some their friends had only been here a few times, but they loved it. It was a totally different vibe than anywhere else; plus, they always played David Bowie, Cherie's all time favourite musician. She not only liked him, she worshipped him. She was beginning to feel the Quaaludes they had popped earlier kick into gear and she swayed with the music, spinning on the spot.

"C'mon, Marie. Let's go dance! They're gonna play David Bowie soon. I just know it!" she grabbed her sister by the hand and they ploughed through the dance floor, moving to the beat. Cherie looked over and saw Joan standing against the wall, her jet black hair pushed off her face. Cherie smiled at her and Joan licked her lips, locking eyes for a moment before glancing away. Cherie got a funny feeling in the pit of her stomach and she laughed to herself, feeling light as a feather, floating through the air.

Two weeks later, Cherie and her friends showed up again at the club. Cherie was feeling particularly great tonight – she knew she looked good, and she had just bought the new Bowie album, which featured some live footage from the same concert she had gone to a few months earlier. She was smiling all night, singing her favourite songs over and over again in her head. She had lost Marie somewhere in the dance floor and sauntered off to take a breather. She stood against the wall, her eyes feeling glassy, her head swimming in the familiar fog. She watched all the different kids waltzing by her and she smiled at them. She loved it here. She felt so at home here, not like she did everywhere else. She felt like she could be understood here; everyone here was a freak too. She closed her eyes and swayed slightly to the music. She opened them again and saw a very tall, lanky man standing in front of her, a look of amusment on his face. He had a blue, glittery triangle painted over his right eye and was wearing a green ascot around his skinny neck. Cherie looked him up and down.

"Hi," he said, his voice booming.

Cherie rolled her eyes. This guy looked way too old to be in here, but then again places like this had a way of letting just about any one in if you played your cards right. She took a sip of her drink.

"Hi," she said coolly.

"I love your look," he said, leaning against the wall beside her.

Cherie smiled slightly. "Thanks," she said.

"A little Bowie, a little Bardot. And a look on your face that says you can kick the shit out of a truck driver," he smiled.

Who _was_ this guy?

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Cherie," she replied.

"Cherie what?"

"Currie. Cherie Currie." This guy may have been weird but he seemed totally harmless.

"Is that your real name?"

She nodded.

"Well, the May Be Great Cherie Currie. I'm Kim Fowley, famous record producer. You've heard of me."

"Have I?" Cherie asked coyly.

He nodded. "Yes. Tell me something, do you sing or play a musical instrument?"

Cherie paused for a minute. "Yeah, I can sing," she said.

Kim clapped his giant hands together. "There's someone I'd like you to meet," he said. He glanced over his shoulder and called out a name, but Cherie couldn't hear it over the music. From seemingly out of nowhere, Joan Jett sauntered over to them, smiling.

Cherie's eyes widened.

"Cherie, this is Joan Jett. Joan, this is Cherie Currie. She's a singer!"

Joan waved at her, cracking gum in her mouth.

Cherie smiled bashfully.

"Now listen to me, Cherie," Kim said, leaning over her. "We are starting a rock and roll band and we need someone just like you to sing in it. Think you can do that for us?"

Cherie looked up at him, shocked. "S-sure," she said. She cleared her throat, squaring her shoulders, her eyes shifting between Joan and Kim.

"Excellent. Well, we're holding an audition on Sunday in the valley. Joan here will tell you where. I'll see you then, Cherie Currie." He turned on his heels, winking at Joan and slithered through the crowd of teenaged outcasts.

Cherie looked at Joan, feeling like none of this was really happening.

"I've seen you before," Joan said.

Cherie nodded. "Yeah, I come here sometimes. With my sister."

Joan smiled. "Twins?" she asked.

Cherie nodded again. She didn't know what to say.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Cherie. I'm gonna go say hi to some people over there but…come find me," Joan said, and Cherie wasn't sure if it was a question or a statement, but she grinned.

"Okay," she said softly.

She watched as Joan disappeared into the sea of others, her black hair shining in the lights. Cherie's stomached fluttered and she felt her heart race, something she knew was not from the drugs this time. She smiled to herself, and finished her drink before wandering off to find Marie again. Once she did, she told her the whole story and Marie laughed.

"You can't be serious," she said.

Cherie frowned. "Why?"

"Kim Fowley is a freak! I heard he has a coat made out of dog fur."

Cherie rolled her eyes. "No way. Anyways, I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna go on Sunday. I just have to find Joan by the end of the night and she will tell me everything."

"She'll probably leave."

"She won't leave!" Cherie said, defensively.

"Okay," Marie said. "We'll see about that."

Cherie gave her sister the finger, annoyed that she couldn't just be happy for her. She weaseled her way through the crowd, ordering another Coke at the bar. She felt exceptionally thirsty for some reason. She stood there, surveying the crowd, sipping the cold, dark liquid through a straw.

Joan saw Cherie from across the room and smiled to herself. She watched her, noticing her cherry red lips. She liked the way Cherie looked, like she wasn't to be fucked with. But she knew that Cherie was shy and she liked that too. Joan's friend leaned in and told her they were leaving and she nodded, telling them she'd meet them outside. She walked through the crowd, slipping in between people dancing and locked eyes with Cherie, who smiled.

"Hey," Joan said in her husky voice. "I gotta go but, Sunday. You'll be there right?"

Cherie nodded. "Yeah, I'll be there. Where is it?"

Joan leaned over the bar and grabbed a napkin and a pen. She jotted down the address, and handed it to Cherie.

"Two o'clock, okay?"

Cherie nodded. "Yeah. Two o'clock is great."

Joan smiled crookedly, her eyes scanning Cherie's face. "See ya," she said waving slightly.

"Bye, Joan," Cherie answered watching as she walked away. Joan paused at the door, looking over her shoulder one last time, smiling at Cherie, making her heart skip a beat.

And that's how Joan met Cherie.


	2. Fever

Cherie was nervous as she walked down the road toward the address Joan had given her. She felt her hands shaking slightly and she reached into her back pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes. She lit one, took a long drag, and coughed. She didn't usually smoke but something made her feel like she should now. She squinted in the sunlight as she walked, eventually turning into the almost completely vacant lot, except for a trailer. She looked at it suspiciously and paused, wondering if she had gotten the address wrong, but then she heard the banging of instruments from inside and she knew she in the right place.

She knocked on the door and Kim Fowley opened it, a huge grin across his face. He was wearing a white tshirt and jeans, with a studded choker around his neck and an apron around his waist. He looked positively insane.

"Cherie! Hello! We've been waiting for you. Won't you come in?" he moved to the side and ushered her in.

She looked over at the others, happy to see Joan, but nervous by the 3 other faces peering back at her. The drummer was smiling, the bassist looked bemused and the other guitarist just glared.

"Ladies," Kim boomed. "This is Cherie Currie. She is auditioning today to be our lead singer," he smiled at her. "Cherie, this is Jackie, Sandy, Lita and, of course, Joan."

Cherie waved, her eyes fixated on Joan.

"What are you going to sing for us this afternoon, Cherie?" Kim asked in a strange voice.

"Uh, 'Fever,'" she replied softly.

"The Peggy Lee song?" Lita spat.

"Who's Peggy Lee?" Sandy asked.

"My mom likes Peggy Lee," Jackie responded.

"Kim, I thought you told her. We don't play that middle of the road shit."

Cherie looked around. "Suzi Quatro sings 'Fever.'" She said.

Lita rolled her eyes.

"Well, can you sing another song?" Joan asked. Her eyes slid down Cherie's tiny frame, but she didn't let her feeling of amusement show on her face.

"That's the only one I prepared," Cherie answered, feeling flustered and totally embarrassed.

"Go, go outside! Wait there!" Kim said, opening the door and shoving Cherie out. She felt heat in her cheeks and she sighed, standing outside the door, lighting a cigarette.

Kim pulled Joan over to one corner of the trailer.

"Play something," he instructed, and she began strumming. "Cherie's wild. Yeah, she's a wild girl. A fire cracker. No. Uh…a cherry bomb," he said, and Joan smiled.

"Hello Daddy," he sang.

"Hello Mom," Joan added, playing along.

"I'm you're ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!" Kim boomed.

Within 20 minutes, they had a rough version of the song prepared. Sandy swung the door open and peered down at Cherie.

"Hey, his Royal, Majestic whatever is ready to see you," she said, laughing.

Cherie nodded, tossing her cigarette on the ground and she walked back inside.

She read the lyrics of the song, a smile creeping across her face.

"You wrote this?" she asked, looking at Joan.

Joan shrugged. "Can you sing it?"

"Yeah, I can sing it," Cherie said and she stood up. She loved this song already. It was like everything she wanted to feel about herself was written on that piece of paper. This was a song about her. This was _her_ song!

They played through it for a while, making changes here and there. Each time Cherie sang it with more vigor, until she was practically growling as she sang it.

"That's it, Cherie!" Kim yelled. "Sing it like you want a fucking _orgasm!_"

Cherie blushed when he said this, but she howled out the lyrics.

Joan watched her, liking the sound of her voice and the way she sang the song. She was going to be just right. She liked the way Cherie held the microphone, like she owned it, like she was never going to let it go. She liked the way she was throwing her whole body into the song. She had been intrigued by Cherie ever since she saw her for the first time, but now there was something about her that Joan just couldn't ignore.

They stopped playing appruptly and Kim looked at Cherie. "Alright. Great work, blondie. We're going to have to deliberate. Wait outside."

Cherie took a deep breath and stepped back outside in the sunlight. She tried to listen to what they were saying, but could only hear their muffled voices.

"Well, dogs. What do you think? Does she have what it takes?" He sat there, his fingers pressed together at the tips.

They all looked at each other, saying nothing.

"Alright, I'll go down the line. Sandy?"

Sandy looked up and him shrugged. "Yeah, I liked her."

Kim nodded. "Jackie?"

"Yeah, she was pretty good," she said.

"Lita?"

Lita smirked. "I dunno, man. She's alright but she's soft. This is a rock and roll band, man. She can't come in here and think she can sing Peggy fuckin' Lee songs all day."

Kim chuckled. "Is that a yes or a no?"

Lita sighed. "Yeah. I guess."

Kim's eyes settled on Joan. "Joanie? What say you?"

Joan leaned forward slightly, her guitar still hanging off her shoulders. She opened her mouth to say something, then shut it again. She chewed her gum for a moment and then smiled. "Yeah, Kim. I thought she was good."

"Excellent!" Kim boomed, leaning forward in the chair. "Now, should we tell her know, or let the little pup squirm for a minute or two longer?" he smiled coyly.

"I'll tell her," Joan said, putting her guitar down. She opened the door and stepped outside.

"Hey kid," she said, her face very still.

"Hi," Cherie said, scanning Joan's face for a sign of the verdict.

"Listen, uh, we've been talking about it and we're kind of not sure, you know, what the right choice is and so we're thinkin' maybe we should see a few more girls before making a choice, and it's just…" she started, hoping she was fooling her.

Cherie's face fell. "Oh, yeah, okay. Sure," she said quickly, feeling disappointed.

Joan paused for a minute and they looked at each other, a smile slowly spreading on her lips. "I'm just messin' around. You were really great in there. We want you in the band."

Cherie froze, smiling. "Really?" she said, practically yelling.

"Yeah, really," Joan replied.

Cherie squealed and jumped on the spot. Joan laughed.

"Alright, alright. You gonna come back in or what?"

Cherie blushed. She nodded slowly and moved toward the door.

"Hey," Joan said, sticking out her hand. "Welcome to the Runaways."

Cherie smiled, putting her hand in Joan's and shaking it.


	3. Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll

**2 months later.**

It was unusual for the Runaways to play at house parties. It was usually big houses in the valley, some teenager whose parents were away for the weekend and decided to throw a rager. They played for free, even though Kim charged the kids at the door. "Gotta pay your dues," he would say. "You wanna play houses for ever or pack stadiums?" he'd ask. "Stadiums!" they'd always yell. And he would nod his head frantically and tell them how you have to spend money to make money. They didn't really care all that much; they just liked playing shows and getting recognized when they went to the club now.

They had just finished playing at a party in the valley. They played only a handful of songs, ending with Cherry Bomb. The kids flung themselves around in front of them shouting and trying to grab at Cherie. But, Kim had taught them well. He taught them how to fight the crowd. When they would throw beer cans at them, Joan and Lita and learned how to dodge them, or defend themselves with their guitars. When some raunchy guy decided to take a lunge at Cherie, she would slither around him, or shove his shoulders back forcefully. She felt like she was protecting her turf – no one was allowed that close to their space, so whoever tried better back the fuck up. Joan would always watch the crowd closely, and could almost always tell when some asshole was going to launch himself at Cherie. She would move close to her side, ready to knock the bastard out if she had to. She knew Cherie could take care of herself, but there was this strange sense of protectiveness that came over Joan, and she didn't quite know why. Maybe it was because she and Cherie had begun to get along so well. They were always laughing about something and they frequently exchanged this look, as if they both knew something other people didn't. Joan couldn't explain what it was, but there was something different about Cherie, something kind of magnetic.

After the show that night, Cherie couldn't help but watch Joan as she stood there, talking to a few people. It was loud in there so she couldn't really hear what they were saying, and she was feeling a little dizzy from the 'ludes so everything just kind of meshed together. But, she admired Joan's stance, the way she held herself. And then that smile. God, that smile! When Joan smiled Cherie got this funny feeling in her stomach that made her blush. They hadn't known each other for very long, but Cherie found Joan more attractive every day and sometimes they would have these very intense moments with each other, like they were waiting for something to happen but neither of them knew what.

Cherie sat there on the arm of the couch, clutching a drink in her hand, her eyes trying to focus clearly on Joan's face. She didn't even really notice that Joan had looked over at her now. Joan smiled crookedly as she saw Cherie's blank stare. She thought it was kind of cute. She excused herself from the conversation and sauntered over toward her, her shoulders arched, hips swaying slightly as she walked.

"How's it goin'?" she asked, snapping Cherie back to reality.

Cherie giggled. "Good," she said softly.

"Feelin' alright?" Joan asked, leaning against the couch.

Cherie nodded slowly, feeling the calm, swirly feeling of the high.

Joan asked Cherie something, but it was too loud. Cherie frowned. "What?" she shouted.

"Hey, you wanna go somewhere quiet?" Joan said loudly, leaning into Cherie.

Cherie looked at Joan then, getting that fluttery feeling in her stomach. There was something about the way Joan had said it that made her a little nervous. She stood up and followed her down the hallway. Joan slowly opened one of the doors, poking her head in to see if anyone was in there. She walked in, glancing over her shoulder and taking Cherie's hand. They stood there for a moment in the dark and Joan put her drink on the desk by the door. It felt significantly quieter in here now, and all Cherie could hear was the sound of their own movements.

"Having fun?" Joan asked softly, standing so close to Cherie they were practically touching. Her eyes scanned Cherie's face, which was visible only by the moonlight shining through the window, and a smile played on her lips.

"Yes," Cherie answered, her voice sounding far away.

"Me too," Joan replied, gently putting her hand on Cherie's hips. They were quiet for a moment, their breathing slow. "Hey Cherie?" Joan asked.

"Mm?" Cherie replied, her eyes feeling heavy but her heart beating fast.

"Can I kiss you?" Joan said in her husky, familiar voice.

Cherie said nothing and leaned into Joan, feeling their lips collide. It felt like sparks shooting up her body and she wrapped her arms around Joan's neck.

Joan grabbed Cherie's slender hips and rocked them in her hands. This felt like weeks of pent up sexual tension between them finally coming to light. She liked the way Cherie felt against her – her tiny frame, soft lips, sultry voice catching her throat. She slid her tongue into her mouth and she tasted sweet. This was the best kiss Joan had ever had.

Cherie stumbled into Joan and they leaned against the wall, kissing aggressively.

"Fuck," Joan breathed, her hands sliding up and down Cherie's sides.

Cherie shivered. She moaned, feeling dizzy and lost in this moment. "Joanie," she cooed, grazing her lips across her face.

"You're sexy," Joan said, smiling.

Cherie pressed against Joan. "I like you," she whispered.

Joan smiled her special smile that made Cherie feel like she had butterflies fluttering all over her body. "I like you too, Cherie," Joan said.

They looked at each other in the darkness, feeling each other's breath on their faces and knew that they both wanted to same thing.

Joan laid on top of Cherie on the bed and she felt nervous and excited.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" she asked quietly, peeling her jacket off and tossing it on the floor.

Cherie nodded. They kissed and Joan slid between Cherie's legs, pushing their hips together. She moaned, loving the way that Cherie tasted and smelt. She liked the feeling of her softness. Lust completely took over and she moved her hands across Cherie's skin, kissing her lips and her neck. She loved the way Cherie sounded as she did this. Her hand crawled down Cherie's stomach, slipping under her unbuttoned jeans. Her heart was beating so fast she could hear it in her ears and she touched Cherie for the first time, feeling how much she wanted this.

Cherie's squirmed underneath Joan, loving the heat between them. It was almost like they were electrically charged and every touch between them was a thousand volts. Joan was so good at this, knowing exactly what Cherie craved and she arched her back, riding out the perfect wave that Joan brought over her.

Joan rolled over beside her, feeling hot and flushed. She breathed heavily, her heart racing. Cherie curled beside her, a smile plastered across her face.

"That was amazing," she said, kissing Joan again. Joan grinned, wrapping her hand around Cherie's hip.

"We should get back to the party. People are gonna wonder what happened to us," she said.

Cherie sighed. "In a minute," she said, moving closer against Joan. "I just want to stay here for one more minute."

"Okay," Joan said softly, running her fingers through Cherie's soft, blonde hair. She looked over at her and Cherie's eyes were closed, a smile still on her lips. Joan put her arm behind her head, lying there, smiling to herself, feeling like everything was just right.

* * *

Cherie walked slowly toward the run down trailer that functioned as the band practice space. She lit a cigarette, inhaling slowly and coughing. She felt her pulse quicken as the nicotine rushed through her lungs and straight to her head. She pulled open the door and Joan and Sandy both snapped their heads to look over at her, a smile spreading across Joan's face. Cherie flickered her eyebrows, getting the feeling that she was just being talked about.  
"Heya kid," Sandy said.  
Cherie took another drag off her cigarette. "Hi," she said softly. She felt a warmness flood her face, feeling awkward now that she was sober standing in front of Joan. She remembered their intimate encounter the night before and it made her feel anxious. She hoped it wouldn't make things weird between them.  
Joan stood up, locking eyes with Cherie and grabbed the cigarette from her hand, taking a slow drag, then handing it back.  
"How's it goin, Cherie?" she asked coolly, blowing smoke out.  
Cherie shrugged, trying to appear casual. "Pretty good," Cherie replied, taking another drag.  
Joan's eyes travelled down Cherie's skinny frame, and she smiled. She leaned into her and whispered in her ear "I had fun last night."  
She stepped back, winking.  
Cherie tried to hide a smile. "Me too," she said softly, her eyes darting toward Sandy, who was flicking through a magazine.  
Joan blew a bubble with her gum. Cherie watched as it got bigger, smelling it's sweet, cherry flavour. She poked it with her finger and it deflated. Joan sucked it back into her mouth, a look of amusement on her face.  
They looked at each other and Joan felt that familiar feeling of attraction toward her.  
"Hey, Salt and Pepper," Sandy called out. "Check this out!"  
They peered over Sandy's shoulder and saw their own faces scowling back at them, below it a brief write up about their up-coming performance in the Hollywood club circuit. Sure, it was only a paragraph and the picture was barely bigger than that you would put in a locket, but it was still something.  
"I guess Kim actually knows what he's doing after all," Sandy said smiling.  
Cherie glanced over at Joan, who ran her hand through her jet black hair.  
"Bitchin," she growled, her familiar crooked smile spreading across her lips.  
Cherie looked back down at the picture, admiring how good they all looked; like real rock stars. They looked like somebodies. She couldn't wait to go home and tell her sister all about this. They were a real band, with real concert dates and real pictures in magazines. She grinned widely.  
"Next time," she said, stubbing her cigarette out. "We're gonna be on the fuckin' cover!"

Joan laughed and threw her arm around Cherie's neck, kissing her cheek.

"Hell yeah!" she shouted.

Sandy looked up at her, smiling and flickered her eyebrows. "You think we're really gonna make it?" she asked. "You think this is really gonna happen?"

Joan stared at her for a moment. "Abso-fuckin-lutely," she replied slowly, smiling playfully.

Sandy laughed and tossed to magazine to the side, standing up and following the other two outside to stand in the sunshine, waiting for the other girls to arrive, and basking in their own glory.


	4. Down, girl

Joan's heart was beating heavy all day. Tonight was their first big show in the Hollywood club circuit. They'd played a few small shows here and there over the past couple of months, but this one was huge. Everyone they knew from the Hollywood scene would be there, including record producers that Kim Fowley had scowered the industry for. They were hard to come by, he told them, because no one wants to see teenage girls with guitars in their hands "waving their sex around like they're brandishing swords." No, he said. "All they want to see is women in the kitchen or on their knees!" This was the kind of thing he said to them all the time to get them pissed off and angry, to get them to show everyone what they got. He knew they could play and knew they could perform. They were tight, too. They rehearsed so much that it became second nature. But tonight was the first time Joan had been nervous for a show in a long time.

Sandy smiled at Joan as they sat around smoking cigarettes.

"This is going to be great!" Sandy said. "Don't you think, Joan?"

Joan nodded, blowing smoke out of her mouth. "Yeah. But I'm fuckin' nervous."

Sandy laughed. "Nervous! Joan Jett doesn't _get_ nervous, remember? C'mon. This is going to really awesome. We're going to be great."

Joan smirked. Sandy always made her feel better about things.

"Hey," Sandy said, leaning closer to Joan. "What about Cherie?" she smiled and winked playfully.

Joan shrugged. "What about her?"

"You know," Sandy said. Joan just glared at her.

"Aw, c'mon Joan! Tell me!" she whined.

Joan threw her head back and laughed. "There's nothin' really to tell. I don't really remember, we were both kinda wasted…"

"Bullshit! You totally remember, I can see the damn look on your face!"

They both laughed. Joan felt herself blush.

"Alright, alright. I don't really know _how_ it happened, but you remember that party we went to a last week, the one where we played a set? Well, Cherie just kept giving me this look, you know? Like, she wanted to tell me something but didn't know how to say it. So we were just talkin' and we went into one of the bedrooms, 'cause it was real loud and shit, right? So, we were talkin' and then, I dunno, we just kinda…" she trailed off.

"Kinda…?" Sandy said, her eyes wide.

"Well, I'm not really sure, but I think we, you know. I think we, like, fucked." Joan smiled, looking down at her hands.

Sandy shoved her slightly. "What do you mean you think you fucked?"

"Well, I mean, we did. I guess. I don't really know. It just kind of happened and it felt like fucking…in a weird way. But, a good way," Joan replied.

They both said nothing for a moment.

"So, you and Cherie…are you together or something?" Sandy asked slowly.

Joan shook her head. "No. It's not like that. It just happened, you know?"

Sandy nodded. "But, so, you like chicks now?"

Joan shrugged. "I like everybody," she said, smiling, taking another drag off her cigarette.

Joan and Sandy stumbled down the hallway before the show. They were laughing hysterically, feeling more drunk than they had intended to get. Joan slid along the wall and stopped outside the bathroom.

"W-wait a sec, wait a sec," she said. "I gotta piss so fucking bad! Hold this," she handed her cigarette to Sandy.

Joan shoved the door open and sauntered through the dimly lit bathroom. She went into the last stall and struggled to get her belt off. She swore under her breath, finally getting it undone and she sat down, relieved. As she sat there she heard someone breathing heavily in one of the other stalls. It sounded like a girl and her ears perked up. Then, she heard a second sound, which was much lower…it sounded like a guy!

_Oh my God!_ She thought. _Someone is fucking in here!_ She laughed to herself and listened closer. But as she did, she realized that the noises sounded familiar. The girl giggled and told the guy to be quiet. Joan's face fell as she realized who it was.

"Cherie?" Joan said loudly, finishing her business and pulling up her pants.

There were quick movements and she heard Cherie's shoes hit the ground. Joan walked out of the stall, a slight look of disgust on her face. She slowly walked past the stall that she knew they were in, continuing on to the sink. She ran her hands under the tap, trying to listen to what was going on. Nothing happened, so she turned and walked back out the door, a look of confusion on her face.

"What?" Sandy asked, holding out her hand with Joan's cigarette it in. Joan stumbled slightly, grabbing Sandy's hand and putting the cigarette in her mouth.

"Nothin'" she said. They stood there for a moment against the wall, swaying slightly. The door of the bathroom swung open and Scott, their acting manager, sauntered out, avoiding eye contact with Joan and Sandy, running his hand through his hair. Joan cut her eyes at him, taking a long drag on her cigarette. Moments later, Cherie emerged, looking flustered. She pulled at the collar of her shirt, shifting her shoulders so it fell into place. She stopped and looked at Joan, who just stared back at her, slowly pulling her cigarette away from her lips and letting the smoke filter out into the air. She wasn't sure what this feeling was that she was having – it wasn't jealousy, but it was something strange. The idea of Cherie and Scott together made Joan uncomfortable, not only because Scott was at least 21, _and _that Joan and Cherie had fooled around only a week before, but also because Joan had noticed Scott getting kind of friendly with Lita as well.

Cherie and Joan just looked at each other for a moment. Cherie didn't know what to say, she felt embarrassed and a little guilty. But, she was at liberty to do whatever she liked! It's not like she was _with_ Joan or anything; it was just casual. Besides, she kind of liked Scott and she wasn't going to turn him away for no reason.

Joan shook her head, a sarcastic smirk spreading across her face.

"You fucking filthy dog," she said, dropping her cigarette and throwing her arm around Cherie's shoulders. They all laughed and Cherie felt relieved. She reached into her pocket and grabbed the pills that Scott had just given her.

"Up or down?" she asked as they stood at the bottom of the staircase, waiting to go back up and on stage.

"Down, girl," Joan growled, grabbing Cherie's hand and putting her fingers up to her lips. She parted them, and Cherie slid her fingers inside, dropping the pill on Joan's tongue. Joan swung around and jogged up the stairs. Sandy laughed, throwing her head back, her mouth open, and Cherie dropped the pill into the back of her throat. She swallowed it dry and winked at Cherie.

"C'mon Blondie," she said. "It's show time."

Cherie nodded, shoving a pill into her mouth and marching up the steps, behind Sandy, waiting for the fuzzy feeling to kick in.

They piled off stage, feeling like they were surging with electricity. Joan's whole body was buzzing and she had never felt so fucking great in her entire life. As they walked down the stairs and down the hallway to their make-shift change room, Joan grabbed Cherie by the arm, pulling her into the bathroom. She laughed, pushing her against the door once they were inside. She held her there, scanning her face, her ears ringing, her heart pounding. She was high – off the drugs and off of the performance – and she just wanted something to push all her energy onto.

"Joanie," Cherie breathed, feeling her pulse race. She stood there, pinned against the wall, her arms dangling by her side, her head spinning; completely submissive.

"That was incredible," Joan said. "I feel incredible."

Cherie nodded slowly, her eyes locked on Joan's lips. There was something just so damn alluring about Joan – maybe it was her attitude, maybe it was how hot she looked all sweaty, her jet black hair pushed off her face, her dark make-up smudged slightly.

"You were so fucking good out there," Joan said. "You're so fucking good."

Cherie smiled. She liked hearing this from Joan, liked knowing she was making her happy.

"You too," she breathed. "You were electric. I could practically feel you from across the stage."

Joan took a deep, stuttering breath and pressed her lips against Cherie's. A moan caught in her throat as she pressed against her. She didn't care about what had happened earlier, didn't care about anything except how she felt in this moment. Lust boiled over her, teenage desire raging through her whole body, peaked by the drugs, the booze, and the feeling of being on stage. She clawed at Cherie's body, grabbing her hips, her face, kissing her neck.

"Why the fuck did you have to wear a jumpsuit tonight?" Joan asked, laughing slightly.

Cherie smiled. "I thought it looked good," she breathed.

"It looks fucking great," Joan replied, pushing Cherie against the wall. "But I can't get it off you."

Cherie pushed against Joan's shoulders. "Right here?" she asked.

Joan shrugged. "Sure, why not? You seem familiar with that, no?"

Cherie frowned slightly. "Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe later…"she trailed off.

Joan backed away slightly. "Sorry," she said softly. She ran her hands through her hair and could feel them shaking. She needed a cigarette and another Quaalude to calm her down.

"You're really sexy, Joan," Cherie whispered.

Joan smirked. "Don't tell me that," she said, her voice low. "It only makes this worse."

They both looked at each other for a moment and felt this strange connection, like they knew everything that was running through each other's head.

"C'mon," Joan said, sighing. "They're gonna wonder where we disappeared to."

Cherie nodded, moving out of the way. Joan slid past her, grabbing the door, but leaned in and kissed Cherie again quickly.

"Ch-ch-ch-ch-Cherry bomb," she said, smirking.

Cherie made a face and grabbed Joan's waist, following her out the door. She glanced sideways at her as they walked down the hallway and Joan shoved her playfully.

Cherie felt at her best when she was with Joan, she felt safe for some reason. She liked Joan, and knew that there was something special between them, something more than just physical, that she had never felt with someone else before. Joan was different, and Cherie already knew that she was very important to her.


	5. This is Fun

The phone rang and Joan picked it up, holding it between her shoulder and ear, placing her hands back on the neck of her guitar.

"Hello?" she said, distracted.

"Hi Joanie," Cherie said softly. There was something strange about her voice. She sounded like she was crying.

"Cherie?" Joan asked. "What's wrong?"

"N-nothing," Cherie stuttered. "it's just I…I need to get out of my house for a little while. I just can't _deal_ with this anymore," she explained.

Joan was quiet for a moment. She took a deep breathed. "What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it right now. I just need to go somewhere else. Can you meet me somewhere? I didn't know who else to call."

Joan smiled, glancing at the clock. It was nearly eight o'clock at night. She would have to come up with a pretty elaborate excuse to leave the house, especially since Cherie lived all the way in the valley.

"Yeah, sure. Listen, why don't we meet at the trailer in, say, an hour?" she suggested. At least that was half way.

"Okay," Cherie said slowly. "Thanks a lot Joan."

"No problem, Cherie," Joan replied. She was worried about Cherie and was glad that she had called her. She grabbed her jacket and shoved her arms through it, grabbing her pack of cigarettes from under her bed. She went into her sock drawer and pulled out a pair of Christmas socks that she kept drugs in. She pocketed a few pills and put the socks back, tucking them under another pair. She waltzed out into the living room.

"Hey, listen I gotta go meet Cherie. She's upset. I won't be out long, I swear," she said to her parents.

Her mother looked up at her. "Alright. Don't stay out late okay, it's getting dark."

Joan nodded, thankful that her parents were so liberal, and walked out the door.

Joan leaned against the trailer, waiting for Cherie. She smoked a cigeratte, watching as the ember light up as she took a drag. She heard footsteps and looked up, noticing Cherie's blonde hair, even in the dusky light.

"Hey," Joan said hoarsely. She dropped her cigarette, stepping on it with the toe of her sneaker.

Cherie looked up, her make-up smudged from tears.

"H-how are we gonna get in?" she asked. "Isn't it locked?"

Joan smiled. "Don't worry. I know another way. Stay here." She disappeared around the side of the trailer, and Cherie could hear her pulling off the screen of the small window, and shoving it open. She grunted as she lifted herself up, sliding through the hole and jumping inside. She opened the door, a smile and look of triumph on her face.

"You could be a professional," Cherie said as she stepped inside/

"Always good to have a fallback, right?" Joan replied, chuckling.

They sat on the floor, facing each other. Joan pulled out her cigarettes and offered on to Cherie. They sat there quietly for a moment, just smoking.

"So," Joan finally said. "You wanna talk or something?"

Cherie sighed. "No. I just want to sit here. With you." She smiled weakly.

Joan cocked her head slightly. "Hey," she whispered, reaching into her pocket. She opened her palm to reveal four familiar looking pills. Cherie's face lit up. She grabbed two and shoved them in her mouth, swallowing them dry. She winced as she felt them slide down her throat.

Joan put out her cigarette and knelt in front of Cherie. She smiled coyly and Cherie leaned back on her hands. Joan moved forward, balancing herself with her hands down by Cherie's waist.

"I really like you," Joan said quietly.

Cherie smiled. "I really like you too, Joan."

Joan crawled on top of her Cherie, her legs on either side of her. She sat there, peering down at Cherie in the darkness. Cherie returned her gaze, a gently smile spreading on her lips as she felt her head get fuzzy.

"This is fun, right?" Joan asked, her eyes scanning Cherie's face.

Cherie nodded slowly. "Yeah. This is fun."

Joan smirked, leaning closer. She put her hand on Cherie's face and kissed her, feeling a rush of desire fill her from her core. She slid her tongue in her mouth, biting slightly on her lower lip.

"No one else makes me feel like this," Joan said. She dragged her hands up Cherie's arms.

Cherie smiled. "Good," she said.

They kissed again for a long time, both feeling excited and slightly nervous. This wasn't like they last time – they were significantly more aware of what they were doing. But, it didn't feel awkward or strange. No, it felt perfectly normal. They moved against each other libidinously, their hands grabbing at each other's clothing, breathing heavy.

Cherie moaned as Joan kissed her neck, her hands slinking down her body.

"Do you feel better?" Joan asked, looking down at her.

Cherie nodded, kissing her again, pulling her weight on top of her. She slid her hand down Joan's torso, pulling at her belt. Joan smiled against her lips.

"Are you sure?" she whispered.

Cherie pulled at the belt again in response. Joan reached down and unbuckled it, letting Cherie do the rest. She felt her hand slide down into her pants and she shivered as she touched her. She held her breath, looking down at Cherie's eager face.

"You're really beautiful," she whispered, kissing her.

Cherie had never heard that before, not in this context. No guy she had ever been with had ever told her she was beautiful while they were fooling around or having sex. She pulled Joan closer, feeling the most incredible connection towards her. Joan wasn't just her band mate, and she wasn't just some girl she hooked up with. No, Joan was her best friend.

Joan moaned in Cherie's ear, feeling herself get closer to the edge. She loved every second of this, loved the softness of Cherie, how calm she was, how relaxed. Any time she had been with guys it was like they were so fucking anxious they could hardly contain it – and in some cases, they couldn't. But, with Cherie everything was such a perfect build-up, the way that it was supposed to be. She kissed her skin, smelled her now familiar scent, and she arched her back, feeling the warm wave wash over her like she was getting high. For that one split second, she swore the world stopped and there was nothing else there except Cherie's rosy cheeks and the look on her face.

"Fucking fuck," Joan breathed, collapsing beside her. Her hands were shaking slightly, partially from the orgasm, and partially from the Quaaludes. She ran her fingers through her hair, feeling her heartbeat trying to regulate. Cherie threw her arm over Joan, she too wallowing in the satisfied feeling of the afterglow. They laid there for a while, both feeling totally relaxed.

"Joan?" Cherie asked softly.

"Mhm?" Joan replied, her eyes closed.

"You're really good at that," Cherie said hazily.

Joan laughed. "So are you."

"Am I?"

Joan took a deep breath, turning on her side to look at Cherie. "Yes. Very good."

"I'm so glad you're here, Joan."

Joan smiled in response.

"I don't know what I would do without you," she continued. "I really don't."

Joan put her hand over Cherie's, wrapping their fingers together. She put her head down next to Cherie's, staring at her profile.

"What do you think it will be like when we're on the road?" Cherie asked after a few minutes.

"I don't know," Joan replied. "But, maybe we'll stay in really nice hotels, like the Hilton, and we'll have all these people asking us for autographs and pictures, and we'll eventually get asked to be on the cover of Creem and Rolling Stone!"

"You think?" Cherie asked.

"Yeah. Totally. We're gonna be rockstars, Cherie. Just like Jimmy Page, and Roger Daltry, and David Bowie!"

Cherie grinned. "Yeah, like David Bowie."

"Except, better. You know why?"

Cherie shook her head.

"Because we got something they don't got," she paused for a moment. "We've got pussies." She laughed, grabbing Cherie's waist playfully.

"Fuck yeah!" she said loudly, leaning in over Joan and kissing her again. Her head felt especially fuzzy now and her movements were slow.

"I love you, Joan," she said quickly, the words just falling out of her mouth as the emotion filled her.

Joan smiled her smile that made Cherie's heart skip. "Yeah, I love you too, Cherie."

Their fingers found their way into each others and they laid there for a little while longer, both imagining what it would be like when they were rock stars, living the life they had always dreamed.


	6. On the Road

Joan jolted awake, feeling strange tingling in her stomach, taking a moment realize that she had been dreaming. It was so vivid, she always swore it was real. She sat up, her eyes adjusting quickly to the darkness. She sat there for a moment, reliving the dream in her mind, a smile creeping across her face.

This was the third night this week she'd dreamt of Cherie. And these were no childhood dreams. No, these were racy, x-rated dreams that sent chills down Joan's spine. Sure, being a teenager with raging hormones had its ups and downs, but this was something Joan was kind of enjoying. She lay back down in bed, shifting slightly from the familiar feeling of arousal, and shut her eyes, smiling bashfully to herself as she settled back into sleep.

"Now listen, you filthy dogs," Kim howled at them, pacing back and forth across the floor. "While you are away making a name for yourself on the road, I don't want to hear a single fucking complaint, do you understand? This is the business, kiddies, and if you don't like it then I can send you right back to middle of nowhere suburbia where you can live miserably ever after as a nobody. You got it? Now, I don't go on road trips, so your dear friend Scott," he looked at Cherie as he said this. "will be looking after you fine pieces of dog meat while you are away. I'll be making plenty of phone calls while you are off travelling and signing autographs and banging groupies, so don't think that I wont be working, you hear me? I am working on something very big right now. Very huge. And you bitches with thank me when you get home for being the best fucking manager in the whole fucking universe, alright? Now, I've spoken to your keepers and they have allowed you to be under my control, so, don't fuck this up. This is serious business and if you bitches want to be bigger than the fucking Rolling Stones, you better listen up and listen up well. The Runaways has the most potential of any band I've seen to take over the world. So, do your fucking job and get on that stage and show these fuckers what you're made of, you got it? Because some of them are not your friends, they're not here to tell you how good you sound or how pretty you look. They're here to fight! And goddamn it, you bitches are made for battle. So go out there and make some goddamn noise and don't stop until your fucking faces fall off, you hear me?"

This is another one of Kim's elaborate, eccentric, epic pep talks that he liked to give to create a boost in morale. They usually worked, and if nothing else, made them smile. They had never met anyone who spoke quite the way he did, and even though he was sometimes a total asshole, they all kind of liked him.

There was a thrill of excitement that went through Cherie as she threw everything into her big, leather suitcase. She had a big grin plastered across her face as she flittered around the room, picking only her best items of clothing to bring with her.

"Can I bring this?" she asked her sister, holding up a bright red jumpsuit.

"No," Marie said sharply.

'You _never_ wear this," Cherie whined.

"Exactly. I save it for special occasions."

Cherie rolled her eyes and tossed it on the bed. She went back into her closet to grab a few more items and when she turned around she saw the jumpsit folded on top. She looked at her sister and smiled.

"Thanks," she said softly.

Marie nodded. She knelt forward and pushed down on the suitcase while Cherie zipped it shut. As she walked to the door, she put her bag down, turned to her sister and gave her a hug.

"Don't forget about the littler people, huh?" Marie said.

"You're taller," Cherie replied and she hugged her sister again. She really was going to miss her. She said goodbye to her aunt and her grandmother, who both had tears in their eyes and kept telling her to be safe and careful. Cherie nodded. Last she came to her father, who stood up, wobbling slightly. He had been drinking more than usual lately, something Cherie just ignored. He was her father, a war veteran. He was the strongest man she knew, and he was an adult. He knew how much was too much, she would tell herself. She hugged him, trying to ignore the scratchy feeling at the back of her throat as she saw the look on his face.

"You be careful out there, kitten," he said in his familiar voice. He cleared his throat. "I don't want to get any phone calls that are gonna scare the hell outta me, alright?" he smiled weakly.

"Don't worry, Daddy," Cherie said. "I'll be careful."

She opened the front door and saw the brown station wagon that awaited her. She made a face, groaning slightly and Scott came jogging up to her, cigarette hanging limply out of his mouth and grabbed her bags.

"Heya," he said, and Cherie smiled. He looked at Marie and winked.

"Is that him?" Marie whispered to Cherie as they watched him throw Cherie's bags in the trunk.

Cherie nodded. "Yes."

"He's old, Cherie," Marie said, laughing.

"He's not that old," Cherie mused.

Marie just glared at her. "Okay," she said rolling her eyes.

"I love you," Cherie said, hugging her sister again.

"I love you too. Call me, okay?"

Cherie nodded. "I will as soon as I can, I promise." And with that she took one last look at her family before walking toward the car. Joan was standing there, her aviator sunglasses hiding her eyes, smoking a cigarette. She smiled slightly as Cherie got closer.

"Hey kiddo," she growled.

Cherie smiled. "Hey yourself,"

Joan laughed, taking one last drag of her smoke, tossing it onto the sidewalk. Cherie crawled into the car, smiling at Sandy.

Joan got in the car, putting her arm around the back of the seat. Cherie looked sideways at her.

"Ready?" Joan asked.

"I was born ready," Cherie replied, and Scott started the engine, screeching down the street, leaving everything they knew behind.

/

Life on the road had its moments, but for the most part everyone was miserable. The travelling, cramped in that station wagon that might as well have been a Volkswagen Beetle, was at times unbearable in the California heat. It was the dead of summer and 6 people crammed into one car was torturous. On top of that, they were almost always hungover, or strung out, or in serious need of sleep. Sometimes they would spend the whole night partying and before they even realized it, the sun would be coming up and Scott would down a coffee and a couple hits of speed and it would be time to hit the road. This wasn't exactly what they had in mind, but it all seemed to wash away when they were standing on stage, watching all those kids look up at them, gritty smiles on their faces. Joan would peer out into the crowd and a rush of adrenaline would course through her as she saw them all watching her. Being on stage was the best feeling in the entire world.

They were partying hard. Scott always had a plethora of drugs on him, and he would buy booze at every rest stop they had. There was more booze and pills in the car at any one time than they knew what to do with. It seemed that they all took turns having a rough night, ending up passed out on the bathroom floor, or on a chair on the balcony of their crappy motel room, or, in Cherie's case, in the hallway. They would laugh it off in the morning, popping pills to kill the headaches they had, but sometimes it got to be too much. Sometimes they would be just a little _too_ drunk, or a little _too _high, and everything would feel like it was on a tilt. One night, Cherie had taken too many Quaaludes, chasing them with three or four drinks. She didn't even really like to drink that much, it reminded her too much of her father, but sometimes she did it just to be like everyone else. She felt herself slipping underneath the control of the pills, something she always feared. She had heard horror stories of kids getting locked in a 'lude coma, and they'd wake up in a puddle of their own puke, totally unaware of how they got there. She'd even heard that some had choked on their own vomit and died. This didn't stop her from taking the pills because, as she told herself time and time again, she knew what she was doing. But on this night, she had pushed the limits. She hesitated as she popped her fourth pill of the night, but she could feel the buzz wearing off and their partying antics were still in full swing. They'd had an awesome show that night, and she had been signing autographs and taking pictures with kids for what felt like hours. She deserved to let loose a little. But she could feel herself swaying and her legs started to feel like jell-o. Every breath she took felt slow and measured, and her heart was thumping painfully in her chest.

"S-Sandy," she slurred, leaning into Sandy who was standing next to her.

"Hey, Cherie. You okay?" she asked, looking at her.

Her words sounded like an echo, far away. Cherie blinked, reaching out toward her, feeling herself becoming weightless.

Sandy caught her as she fell over. "Oh, shit!" she said, grabbing hold of her. "Cherie! Cherie!" she called her name, shaking her. But her body was limp. Cherie stirred slightly.

"C'mon, Cherie. Help me out! I'm gonna take you to the bathroom and fix you up, okay? C'mon, just walk a little." She pulled her along the wall, struggling slightly. She finally got her into the bathroom and sat her down, back against the tub. She knelt in front of her.

"Cherie," she said. There was no response. She said her name again, shaking her legs. Her head just lolled from side to side.

"Fuck!" Sandy yelled, running her hands through her hair. She shook Cherie's shoulders, shouting her name. But Cherie hardly moved. She was breathing, but very slowly and lightly.

In a moment of desperation, Sandy slapped Cherie, and she slid down the tub. Sandy grabbed her, propping her up, and frantically dashed out the door looking for Joan. She pushed her way through all the people, looking for Joan's black hair. But, it was dark in there and she couldn't see her anywhere. She caught sight of Lita chatting with Scott in a corner. Scott's hand was around her waist and he was talking into her ear, making Lita laugh.

"Hey! You guys! Where's Joan? I need Joan!" she said, panicking.

"What's wrong?" Lita asked, annoyed slightly at the interruption.

"It's Cherie. She's really fucked up. I need Joan, have you seen her?"

Lita shrugged. "Figures. I think she's outside."

Sandy bolted toward the door, sliding it open and scanning the faces for Joan. She finally saw her and she ran toward her.

"Joan! Come with me! It's Cherie. She's messed up, really bad," she said, pulling her arm.

Joan's eyes widened and she took off toward the bathroom. She threw the door open and saw Cherie half slumped over. She threw herself onto her knees and grabbed her.

"Cherie!" she yelled. "Cherie, baby, wake up! Can you hear me? It's Joan!" she shook her. Cherie moaned slightly, her eyes fluttering. Joan grabbed a towel that was lying across the sink and she soaked it in cold water, holding it against Cherie's face.

"Cherie, c'mon! Wake up! It's okay, I'm here," Joan said. She looked up at Sandy who was standing over them.

"What should we do?" Sandy asked, panicking.

"She'll be fine. She just needs to come around. It's okay. Go get some water or ice or something."

Sandy nodded and ran down the hallway.

Cherie groaned again and her eyes opened slightly. The whole room was blinding and spinning.

"Joanie," she said, her voice hoarse.

"I'm here, Cherie. Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Cherie shook her head, feeling her stomach churn. She leaned forward slightly, and Joan reacted, grabbing her and holding her head over the toilet. Cherie was sick, and tears streamed down her face. She hated this. It felt like she was drowning. She coughed and Joan just sat there, rubbing her back.

"It's okay, Cherie," she said softly. "It's okay, you're gonna be okay."

It reminded Cherie of when she was a little kid and she had the flu and her Dad would hold her hair back and tell her everything would be okay. There was something kind of comforting in having Joan there now, even though she was embarrassed. Everything would be okay, she told herself. Everything would be okay because Joan said so.

Cherie woke up in the morning, her head pounding, her stomach aching, and her muscles tight. She groaned, squinting. Joan stirred beside her.

"Hey champ," she said, her voice raspy and hoarse. She looked like she hadn't slept at all.

Cherie just frowned, unable to speak just yet. The throat was killing her – it felt like she was swallowing razor blades. Joan reached over and handed her a glass of water. Cherie drank it slowly, welcoming its coolness.

"You really fuckin' scared me last night, man," Joan whispered.

Cherie covered her face with her hands.

"You were really far gone," Joan added. "I've never seen someone like that before. Plus, I thought Sandy was going to have a heart attack. She was freaking out."

Cherie closed her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice sounding awful. Her eyes widened. _Oh God!_ She thought. _How can I sing like this?_

She sighed and Joan put her hand on her face gently. "Don't do that again, alright kid? It's a total buzz kill," she smiled softly.

Cherie rolled over slightly, pulling herself into Joan. She didn't know why, but she just wanted to be close to her.

"I'm sorry, Joan," Cherie said again, the words catching in her throat. She felt like shit, and she was so embarrassed at her behaviour. She felt tears sting her eyes.

"It's okay, Cherie. Everything is okay now," she put her arm across Cherie and hugged her.

"Thank you," Cherie whispered after a little while. "I don't know what would have happened if you…"

"Shh," Joan said. She closed her eyes, listening to their breathing, relieved that everything was fine.

"I love you, Joan," Cherie said. And Joan just smiled.


	7. Dirty Magazine

"Are you bitches behaving yourselves?" Kim Fowley growled into the phone.

Joan laughed. "Yeah Kim. We're really rockin' it. I mean, we're totally hot. But, you gotta send up some more money, man. We're _starving_."

"Look Joanie. I'm doin' what I can over here alright? We got a lot of debt still you know, and more comin. I'm workin on getting you bitches a record deal, you hear me? So you gotta pay your dues –"

"Spend money to make money. Yeah Kim, I know, I know."

"You keep things under control on the road, alright? I'm trusting you Joan. Because I know the shit talking that Scott Anderson does from time to time, but you wont lie to me right, Joan?"

"No, Kim. Everything's fine."

"That's my little pup. Now you go back to melting faces and fucking groupies, you got it? Make your master proud!" he said before hanging up the phone.

Joan sighed, slamming the receiver down. She was sick and tired of eating fucking burgers and fries all the damn time. But, that's all they could afford. Every week Scott would shell out money and they'd have just enough to eat something cheap and fast. But, the trade-off was they never had to pay for drugs or booze. So, in the end, she supposed it worked out.

She sauntered off back down the hallway to the room they were all sharing. She rolled her shoulders, the buckles on her leather jacket jingling. She smiled at Cherie who sitting on the bed. She looked over at Sandy and laughed.

"What the fuck are you reading?" she asked, grabbing the magazine from her. It was a dirty magazine filled with naked women and men standing over them.

"Hey!" Sandy yelled, grabbing it back. She blushed slightly. "I stole it from Scott."

They all laughed, peering over her shoulder as she flicked through the pages, twisting it upside down in confusion.

"What's the big deal with these anyways?" she asked. "It's just naked chicks and guys with limp dicks."

"I dunno, it's sexy I guess," Joan said, smacking gum in her mouth.

"That's not sexy," Sandy said, pointing at some young girl who looked like she was kind of in pain.

Cherie giggled.

Sandy made a face and closed the magazine sliding it off the bed and onto the floor.

"That's stuff's stupid," she said, laying down on the bed.

"Well, what's wrong with it?" Joan asked, picking up the magazine and flipping through it again.

"I dunno, it's just…it's not even hot. I mean, do guys really look at that and get hard?"

Joan and Cherie looked at each other and then burst out laughing.

"Uh, yeah, Sandy," Cherie said. "They're pretty easy to please."

Sandy rolled her eyes. "Well, not me," she said. "That's stuff's boring."

"Well then what do you like?" Joan asked, looking over at her.

A smiled crept across Sandy's face. "I dunno," she said, shrugging.

"Well, who do you have a crush on?" Joan asked.

Sandy thought for a moment. "No one."

Joan chuckled. "Okay, well what about…Farah Fawcett. You like her?"

Sandy smiled. "Yeah! Who doesn't?" she said excitedly.

Cherie blushed, nodding slightly.

Joan flickered her eyebrows suggestively. "Yeah, she's pretty hot," she said.

They all sat there quietly thinking about Farah Fawcett and her infamous pin-up photo shoot.

"Do you think it's weird?" Sandy asked, breaking the moment of silence.

"What?" Joan asked, dropping the magazine onto the floor, kicking it under the bed.

"That we think other girls are hot?" Sandy replied.

Joan and Cherie exchanged a quick glance.

"No," Joan said quickly. She looked down at her hands.

Cherie shrugged. "Well, I mean, Bowie and Elton John both came out saying they think that men are hot. So, what's the difference?"

Sandy nodded slowly. "I guess that's true. But, I mean, how do girls…you know…_do it_?" she stared at Joan.

"C'mon, man," Joan said, feeling all together too obvious. "Do we have to talk about this?"

"It's almost the same stuff as with a guy," Cherie chimed in. Sandy looked at her, a smile on her lips. "But, well, without the obvious bits."

Joan looked sideways at Cherie and she bit her lip. Sandy knew about the two of them, but she didn't think Cherie realized that. She took a deep breath, running her hand through the back of her hair. She shifted awkwardly on the bed.

"Oh, c'mon Joanie," Cherie said, shoving her shoulder playfully. "Don't be so embarrassed."

"I'm not," Joan mumbled. She looked away, feeling heat in her face.

Sandy laughed. "Yeah, Joan. Don't be ashamed that you're a huge queer now," she said.

Joan shot her a dirty look. "Shut up," she said sternly.

"I'm only joking," Sandy said defensively. Joan stood up, grabbing her cigarettes out of her pocket. She lit one, looked back at the two of them and walked out of the room.

"What's her damage?" Sandy asked, rolling her eyes.

Cherie shrugged. "I don't know. I guess she's just sensitive."

"She told me about you guys, you know," Sandy said absent-mindedly.

Cherie bit her lip. "Oh," she said.

"But, whatever. It's not like I care or anything."

Cherie sat there on the edge of the bed for a moment. "I'm gonna go see if she's okay," she said softly.

Sandy nodded, watching as Cherie left as well.

She found Joan outside by the pool, sitting on one of the chairs. Cherie sat down on the ground beside her.

"Can I tell you a secret," Cherie said, looking out across the pool.

Joan exhaled smoke, glancing over at Cherie through her sunglasses. "Sure," she said.

"I've never…you know…done it to myself before."

Joan laughed. "Done _what_ to yourself?"

Cherie looked up at her. "You know." She smiled suggestively.

Joan held her cigarette between her thumb and index finger, taking a long drag, just looking back at Cherie. "I don't believe you," she said finally.

"Nope, I swear. Never done it."

"Why are you telling me this exactly?" Joan asked.

"I don't know. I just…thought of it."

Joan nodded slowly. "Well, you ever gonna try?"

Cherie shrugged. "I wouldn't even know how."

Joan chuckled. "Cherie, it's not rocket science. I mean, if you can do it to me, you can do it to yourself."

Cherie blushed. "I guess that's true."

"You, uh, want me to show you?" Joan asked, leaning closer.

Cherie bit her lip. "No," she said slowly. "I'll figure it out."

"Alright," Joan said, sitting up. "It's easiest if you do it in the shower."

"Why?" Cherie asked.

"Because," Joan said, standing up and flicking her cigarette away. "No one else is around." She smiled her familiar smile and signalled that she was going back inside.

Cherie got up, following behind before slipping her hand into Joan's.

Joan looked down at their hands and smiled slightly. "What am I, your boyfriend now?"

"No," Cherie mused. "Just my friend."

Joan nodded, laughing. "Right," she said.

* * *

"Cherie, I swear to god if you don't shut the _fuck_ up, I will make you," Lita shouted from across the room.

Cherie glared back at her. She wanted nothing more than to tell her right where to go, but Lita could have her on the ground in a heartbeat, and she wasn't going to take any chances.

They had been arguing all day. This was a bad day for them; no one was getting along. Not even Joan and Cherie. They were all tired, exhausted even, strung out and getting a little sick of the close quarters they had been living in for the past 7 weeks. Life on the road was tougher than they'd ever imagined.

They all stood in the dressing room, each trying to get ready for the show they had in a few hours. Cherie had been complaining about how homesick she was and Lita had just about had enough.

"You think I'm not homesick?" She had said to her earlier. "You think I don't miss my fuckin' family? Well, I do. Just as much as you do. But, when I got back home I wanna be somebody."

Cherie had liked this, felt like it made sense to her. After all, this why she was doing this in the first place. To make something of her self, to _be_ somebody. But, as time went on this attachment to this dream was slipping away and all she wanted was her own bed more and more.

Cherie shut her mouth, applying her make-up in the mirror. She could feel the others' eyes on her but she ignored it. She took a deep breath, reaching into her make-up bag and pulling out a couple of pills from a little baggie, throwing them back. Those ought to make her relax.

"Motherfucker!" Joan yelled as she opened up her guitar case. Three strings had snapped. "Is it so fucking hard for these fucking fatass roadies to do something _right_ for once?" she screamed, barrelling down the hallway. They could all hear her reaming one of the roadies out. It took a lot to make Joan yell, but every little thing was just another addition to the shit pile that was this tour. She came storming back it, her face flushed, rage in her eyes.

"Fucking morons," she said under her breath, rummaging through her case and pulling out a pack of strings. She sat on the floor and began repairing her guitar.

Cherie watched her out of the corner of her eye. She wished that tensions weren't so high because she missed those tender moments with Joan and wanted nothing more than to kneel down beside her and put her arm around her shoulders. But, she knew better than to get in Joan's way.

The show itself went flawlessly, as it usually did. They were a tight act, and they should be since they had played nearly every night for the past 7 weeks. They had fun on stage; it was a place for let out some their aggression. Once they finished they piled back into the dressing room, getting their things together for another awful night at some sketchy motel nearby. They were all silent as they went about their business, collecting their belongings and packing them up, and they marched out of the room in a straight line. As they swung the back door open, they heard a wave of voices screaming. They all jolted, suddenly very alert and saw the swarm of faces on the other side.

"Holy shit!" Sandy said as she stepped out hesitantly. She felt hands on her and could barely hear herself think over the screaming. Cherie looked out and saw a few people lunge at her, she dodged them and ran forward but someone grabbed her, pulling her towards them. She couldn't see his face and she panicked, pulling away. Before she knew it, Joan was there, shoving the guy's shoulder's back, telling him to back off. She grabbed Cherie's arm and pulled her, throwing her arm around her shoulders protectively, shoving her forward. They finally made it into the car, exasperated.

"What the fuck was that?" Lita said, half smiling.

"Fans," Scott said from the front seat.

"One of them just grabbed me!" Cherie said. "Just pulled me right into the middle of them."

"Yeah, man. We need some security out there or something," Joan said to Scott. "That was messed up! The guy was huge. But I scared him off," she smiled sheepishly, lighting a cigarette. They all sat there for a moment, buzzing from all the excitement. Cherie looked sideways at Joan.

"You okay?" Joan asked her quietly.

Cherie nodded. They locked eyes for a moment and it felt as if the tension from early had been lifted slightly. Joan sighed as they weaved through the road, the streetlamps flickering. They were all quiet for the ride, both tired and speechless. Cherie peered out the window, feeling homesick again. She felt her eyes get heavy as she pressed her head against the window, watching the road signs whiz by. She felt Joan stir beside her and then looked over as she felt Joan's head rest slightly on her shoulder. Cherie smiled, placing her head gently against Joan's and closed her eyes for a moment, wanting sleep.

**A/N Well this is the last chapter…I felt like it kind of blends nicely into the first chapter of Don't Abuse Me. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading! I'll try on work something soon! **


End file.
